Hooked, Lies and Sinking
by cybertoothtiger
Summary: Follows Jack as he gets involved with the Salazars. Warning for drug use and language. Spoilers for S3. Jack/Kate, Jack/Claudia. Final chapter now up.
1. Chapter 1

"Dammit." He slumped against her.

"Jack, it's okay."

"It's not okay, Kate." Jack's mouth was twisted with bitterness as he rolled off of her and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he lied. He knew exactly. The literature he'd read listed this as a side effect of heroin, but he hadn't really taken it seriously. Just as he hadn't really expected to get hooked. _But I could sure use a fix now_.

Kate propped herself on one elbow and reached under his long-sleeved t-shirt for his chest, lightly running her hand over his muscles. She paused, as she always did, when she reached the scars from that day. The day they'd met, almost two years ago. The day he'd died. She shrugged. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. It happens." He grunted, looking away. _It never used to happen to me._

"Listen, it's late," she said gently. "We should probably get some sleep, anyway." She snuggled into him, lifting his arm around her as she laid her head on his chest. He squeezed her lightly and kissed her hair. "Okay."

Kate's understanding just made it worse. He was disgusted with himself and what he was doing to his body, and to her.

He waited until her breathing was deep and even before he slowly pulled his arm out from under her. She stirred slightly, but settled back into the pillow that had been warmed by his head. Slowly, Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, burying his head in his hands to keep them from shaking. _And this is only the beginning._ He would have to slow down or he'd be no good to anyone. He took a deep, ragged breath and let his hands slide down his face as he raised his head.

He'd been using for just over a month now, since just after he got back from Canada. He hadn't expected this to happen so fast. He had thought he was stronger than this.

It had been surprisingly easy. Once he'd decided on his course of action, he had gone to see his old army buddy Brad. Brad had been the "go to" guy for hash back in Desert Storm, and Jack knew his friend had stayed, well, had stayed 'in touch' with the drug culture. Brad wasn't in the army any more. If the file was right, he wasn't doing much of anything any more.

Jack pulled up in front of the low-rise apartment building and hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door handle of his SUV and his eyes on the dingy edifice. Rust stains were running down the chipped stucco from the railings around the faux balconies on the second floor. The untrimmed shrubs in front were choked with litter, and the security door was propped open with a brick.

He got out and locked his vehicle. He pocketed his sunglasses as he strode to the door and pulled it open, checking the list for Brad's name before heading up the stairs to #324. He knocked on the door, lightly at first, then a bit louder. There was some rustling and the door opened a crack, held on a chain. "Yeah?"

Brad looked up and down the hall before he had a good look at his visitor. His expression softened with surprise and pleasure when he recognized his friend.

"Jack Bauer? Holy shit! Come on in, man." The door closed while Brad removed the chain. He threw it open again, holding it wide as he ushered Jack into his bachelor apartment. Jack stepped in and glanced around. Dirty dishes littered the coffee table and floor beside the couch. The place reeked of old cigarette smoke, and a slightly sweeter odour. A couple of pot plants stood in one corner, near the window but out of view of the door.

"Jack. Jack-ay!" Brad clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "It's good to see you, Captain. How long's it been?"

"Too long, man." Jack was shocked at the change in his friend. Brad had always been thick-set and muscular. Now he was so thin, Jack was afraid to breathe too hard for fear of knocking him down. Dark circles under his eyes and pale, almost waxy skin spoke of a life of dissipation. Jack knew he had come to the right place.

"So what's up? Can I get you something?" Without waiting for a response, Brad opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Jack.

Jack shrugged. "I dunno, man. I was feeling like a party. I got to thinking about old times and thought I'd look you up."

Brad smiled slyly. "No one knows how to party like me, that's for sure. Old ball and chain know you're out?"

Jack looked away as he took a pull on his beer. "No. Teri died a few years ago, Brad." He turned to face his friend. Brad stared at him for a minute, then broke his gaze, as if what he'd seen in Jack's eyes made him nervous.

"Jeez, Jack. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's alright." He shrugged again. "I'm seeing someone else. She's cool." His casual tone didn't quite mask his pain.

"Okay." Brad laughed uncomfortably before letting his face break into a grin. "So let's get you _wasted_, man."

Whatever else Brad was, he was perceptive. Jack appreciated that. "Okay."

It had taken a bit of manoeuvring, but a few beers, a couple of joints and two hours later, Brad brought out the hard stuff. Jack had struggled with this: at first he hadn't wanted anyone to see him use for the first time, but then he'd realized that was stupid. His heart seemed to have suffered no long-term effects from his interrogation experience, but you never know how you'll react, and he didn't want Kim to have to come and identify him at the morgue if he accidentally overdosed. No. Better to try it first with someone he trusted, but who didn't move in the same circles and who wouldn't rat him out. Plus, he reasoned, if he had to do it, he may as well enjoy it.

He played it carefully. He didn't want to seem too eager – he had to let Brad talk him into it without making it too difficult to be convinced. Jack watched carefully as Brad prepared his kit and cooked a dose, mentally taking notes. He was familiar with the theory, and he'd seen it done a number of times, but he'd never taken a personal interest. Getting it right could be the difference between life and death.

Jack put the needle against his arm, letting the tip press on his skin. He could see the blue line of the vein pulsing below the surface. _Well, here goes nothing._ He jabbed and pushed the plunger.

Almost immediately, he knew everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fucking fantastic. He had never felt like this. Ever. This was… he felt a wave of nausea and fought it, slumping back against the couch. _Holy shit_.

Half an hour later, the feeling was gone, and already, he wanted it back.

In the days and weeks between then and now, he'd started using every day, sometimes more than once. He told himself it was necessary, that he had to be convincing and build up his tolerance fairly quickly, or the Salazars would get suspicious. He didn't want to admit to himself how much he looked forward to that needle at the end of the day. He had changed his routine to go for a 'run' at the end of the day after work. He'd jog to a park with his kit in the pocket of his hoodie. There he would head to a secluded spot among the trees and fix, floating on the scent of eucalypts.

The down side was he didn't want to eat anything when he got home. He hadn't had a decent meal with Kate for ages, even though she was still cooking for him. The first few weeks, the sex had been amazing, but lately he would often have to go to bed early as he came down. He could tell he was more moody and irritable than usual. Kate seemed to attribute it to stress from work, and he let her think that. No one at work suspected anything.

Jack sighed and turned to look at Kate, sleeping peacefully behind him. Her blond hair was splayed out on the pillow around her head like a halo. It fit her personality. He reached out a hand and gently traced the line from her temple to her chin with the back of his index finger.

He hadn't told her that he was leaving yet. At first he thought that they would be able to stay together even while he was away, but now he saw that wouldn't be possible. He knew that, right now, if someone told him he had to choose between never seeing Kate again and never using again, he would choose the heroin. He wasn't proud of it. But it was true. Jack realized that right now, he would give up almost anything before he would give up that half hour of peace every day.

Truth was, he was looking forward to going under and being able to use as much as he wanted. That thought made him more afraid of this mission than any other he had ever taken on.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Don't own 24.

He hated Christmas. Hated it. Ever since that last Christmas he hadn't spent with Teri. The lights, the music, the feeling that everyone else was getting together with their families, even if they weren't. Even if the reality of other people's families was Uncle Ted getting drunk again, and Mom fighting with Dad's new wife. Everyone was supposed to look like a Norman Rockwell painting. He just couldn't do it. Not any more. Not even for Kim. Thank god she wasn't very into it now either.

It made him jumpy.

He hated feeling jumpy.

This would be the third one without her. The grief councillor Chappelle had made him go to (after Tony caught him asleep at his desk with a gun in his hand) -- she had said something about the first milestones after the death of a loved one being the worst. The first birthday, the first Valentine's Day, the first wedding anniversary, the first Christmas, each one would reveal some new way to miss her.

Bullshit.

Saying the first ones were the worst implied that they would get easier, and they weren't. They weren't getting any easier.

And this year he had Kate to contend with. She was so… happy. Oh, he knew it was difficult for her, too. Marie was still behind bars, and her dad was still a mess. But she was putting on a brave front, and Jack knew that part of that was possible because she was relying on him for strength. She had no idea how weak he was, sometimes.

No idea.

Jack gave a short, bitter, half-laugh and flicked his lighter open, holding it under the spoon. He had some vials from a child's chemistry set lined up, ready to take the doses he was cooking up. He was so weak, he was planning ahead. It would be harder to get away over the holidays, there was more risk of getting caught.

The last vial sealed, Jack checked his watch. She wouldn't be home for a couple more hours. She'd made a last trip to the mall to pick up a few more things for dinner. A few trimmings to make the odd collection of waifs and strays gathered around their dining room table look like a family from the paintings, at least from the outside.

He started to tidy up, throwing out the stained cotton and tucking the vials neatly into a little case he'd found in a head shop in the valley. It appealed to his military sense of order. The junkie's equivalent of polished boots or a bed made so neatly you could bounce a quarter off of it.

Not that he was a junkie.

He wasn't and he never would be. He was just building up his tolerance as part of his cover. It was no different from any of the other things he'd done to establish an alternative identity. It had nothing to do with who he really was, and as soon as he was done with the Salazars, he'd be done with this.

Jack reached for the last vial. It felt so light in his hand. A few drops of dark liquid. If he spilled it, it would make a stain hardly bigger than the ring under a cup of coffee. How could something that was itself nothing to hold, hold so much within itself? He checked his watch again, calculating. He had time. By the time everyone got here, he'd be tired, that's all. And the edge would be gone, washed away by those few little drops sailing on his bloodstream.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate could hear the heavy thump of the bass as she came up the sidewalk. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door to be hit with a wave of music. The Clash.

_London calling to the imitation zone  
Forget it, brother, you can go at it alone  
London calling to the zombies of death  
Quit holding out - and draw another breath  
London calling - and I don't wanna shout…_

"Jack?" Kate shouted, heading to the stereo to turn it down a notch. It didn't need to be _quite _at 11.

Jack bounced out of the kitchen, a knife in his hand. Kate took a step back at the look on his face. His eyes were different.

"Hey, Kate!" He grinned. "I was just making some dinner!" he was shouting even though the volume was lower and he didn't really need to. He turned back to the counter, head bobbing to the beat as he chopped up some mushrooms and flung them in the pan.

"Oh." Kate smiled and hung her bag on the back of a stool. "Need any help?"

"Nope. All taken care of." He waved the tip of the knife at the island. "I poured you some wine."

Kate picked up her glass and settled in. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Jack's head snapped up, the knife suspended over some tomatoes. "Feeling better? What makes you say that?"

"Well, um, I don't know," she was uneasy and she couldn't figure out why. _Just be glad he's in a good mood._ She shook herself and turned it into a shrug. "You've been so tired lately, and you haven't felt much like eating."

Jack dropped his head and concentrated on chopping. "Yeah, well, you know. Work."

She took a sip and put her glass on the counter, running one finger around the base. "I wish you wouldn't work so hard," she said softly.

"What's that?"

She lifted her head. "I said I wish you wouldn't work so hard, Jack. I don't think it's healthy."

He laughed, reaching for his own glass. Kate noticed that the bottle was already more than half empty. "Not healthy, huh?" He cocked an eyebrow at her as he drank.

He smacked his lips and set the glass down again. "No, I supposed you could say it's not the _healthiest_ job around."

Kate leaned forward and put a hand gently on his arm, her forehead wrinkling in concern. "I mean it, Jack. Maybe you should take a vacation."

Jack turned away and scraped the tomatoes into the pan. "A vacation? Are you kidding me?" he tossed the words over his shoulder as he turned the heat down a bit and checked on the other pot boiling near the back of the stove.

"No, I'm not kidding, Jack."

He whirled on her, still holding the cutting board. He jabbed the knife emphatically the way some people would use a pen for emphasis. "Listen, Kate, in case you haven't noticed," his mouth twisted and his voice had taken on an edge. "I don't have an ordinary job. I can't just take a few days off at the drop of a hat."

"I didn't mean at the drop of a hat." Kate reminded herself to stay calm. He could get intense pretty quickly. _Should be used to that by now._ She still trusted him not to get out of control. She knew he was a good person, even in the toughest circumstances. "I meant you should plan to get out of the office for a while."

Jack dropped the knife and cutting board into the sink and leaned against it with one arm as he laughed. Kate noticed he was a little unsteady on his feet. _How much wine has he had?_ She tried not to let him see her searching for signs of another bottle, something to explain his behaviour.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his other hand. "Plan to get out of the office? Yeah, Kate, I'll do that." He took a wooden spoon out of the jug on the counter and stirred the sauce.

"When?"

His back stiffened and he stopped stirring. Kate could see his fingers tightening on the handle of the spoon.

"Kate, can we just drop it?" he snapped. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Jack's shoulders drooped. He put the spoon down and moved to her, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Kate. I just would really like us to have a good time tonight." He held her away from him and searched for her eyes. "I know I've been much fun lately. I'd like to make it up to you, okay?"

Kate stared at him. His pupils were so tiny, like pin pricks. It wasn't _that_ bright in the kitchen. She could feel a thought forming in the back of her brain, and she pushed it away, hard. She raised her face to his. "Okay." She kissed him, tasting the wine on his tongue. Maybe it was just the wine. It was probably just the wine.


	4. Chapter 4

Kate crept into the room and stood quietly beside the bed. She'd waited in the living room until she thought he was asleep, telling him she wanted to read for a bit. Now his breathing was so slow and shallow she bent and put her head to his chest to make sure there was still a heartbeat.

Carefully, she reached for the arm that was flung across her pillow, as if he'd been searching for her. She tugged at the sleeve of his long-sleeved grey shirt, nervously watching to see if he would stir. He didn't, so she rolled it up, laying bare the skin on the inside of his elbow.

_Well. Now you know. Shit._

She wrenched her eyes from his arm to settle on his face, relaxed and peaceful beneath his tousled blonde hair.

How many ways could this man try to destroy himself before he would succeed?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Don't own anything from 24. Sorry I've been so lame at uploading everything here. I'll give you a bunch of chapters at once to make up for it. Please R&R!

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He wished he could be high for this; it would make it so much easier. The idea that he could even think that scared him a little, even as it reassured him that he was making the right decision. He didn't want her to have to watch this, nor to wait around until it was over.

He owed it to her to be sober. She deserved her that, and more. He entered the kitchen and poured himself a coffee before turning to her.

"Kate, we need to talk." His hands gripped the mug, grateful for something solid to hold on to.

Kate lowered the newspaper she had been reading. "Sure, Jack. What's up?"

He ran a hand through his hair and moved to the table, pulling out the chair next to her and setting his coffee on the table. "I have to go away."

Kate blanched. "Away? Where are you going, Jack?"

He looked her in the eye. "It's for work. I may be gone for several months."

He was surprised when she relaxed a bit. _What had she thought he meant?_

Then her forehead wrinkled. "Are you going undercover?"

Jack couldn't respond; she knew that. He gave her his answer by looking at her steadily.

Something must have clicked, because a look of relief washed over her face. "Is _that_ why you've been using drugs?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Jack. I'm not that naive. The mood swings, the loss of appetite, the erratic behaviour…" He got the sense that she knew more than that. _Shit._ He obviously hadn't hid it as well as he thought he had.

Jack leaned back in his chair and ran his hand down his face. "Oh, god, Kate." He was ashamed at how selfish he'd been.

"I thought it was because of me." Her voice was small, quiet, as her finger traced the edge of the newspaper.

"What? Kate, listen to me," he pulled his chair a bit closer and reached a hand out to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry. I had hoped that you wouldn't have to find out. I never wanted you to get hurt."

She tilted her head to rub her cheek against his hand. "I'm just surprised CTU is okay with this. It seems pretty risky. I'm glad they're supervising you."

His hand stilled and he looked up to the ceiling. "They don't know."

Kate gripped his hand, pulling it down in front of her. "What? Jack, are you insane?" she asked sharply.

"Kate, they can't know," he said miserably. "They'll think, they'll think it's because of Teri and they won't let me go on the mission." His eyes met hers again. "But it's the only way for me to get in with these guys."

He could see her considering this, weighing it in her mind. "I think you're nuts. Do you know how dangerous this is? What if you get hooked?"

"I won't get hooked, Kate," he lied. Judging by the way he was feeling, he was pretty sure he already was.

She laughed bitterly. "That's what everyone thinks."

"Kate, you have to trust me on this."

They sat there silently for a few moments.

Kate sighed. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know."

"Will I get to see you?"

"No. Kate –" Jack took a deep breath. He hated what he was about to do, but it was necessary. "I don't want you to wait for me."

"What?" There it was: the look of surprise and hurt. Once again, he was inflicting pain on someone he cared about. "Jack, of course I'll wait."

"No, Kate, you can't."

"What do you mean? You won't be gone for ever." She shook her head slowly in confusion.

Jack pushed away and stood up, turning his back to her. "Dammit, Kate! Can't you understand?" He gripped the back of his neck and faced her, tears in his eyes. "I can't let you be touched by this. If my cover gets blown, they might come after you. I can't risk having them find you." His voice was ragged. "I can't let it happen again."

Kate stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head into his chest. "I don't want to lose you, Jack," she whispered. He could feel his shirt getting damp from her tears. He held her close and kissed the top of her head. What could he say? What could he possibly say?

"Listen, Jack," she leaned back so he could see her face. "Let's not make any decisions now. Let's see how it goes. I'll lay low, and when you're done, you can come back and we'll take it from there.'

He shifted his eyes away from her. "You may not want me back."

"Why? Because of the drugs?" He wished she'd stop talking about that. "I agree that's not ideal. I don't want you to do that to yourself. Frankly, I think it's stupid." Her raised hand prevented him from interrupting. "Let me finish. I know you, Jack." She moved her had to his face. "You are a good person. Whatever happens, that person will still be in there."

He gave a little half laugh and rubbed his forehead. "I just don't think it's a good idea. Kate, you've said yourself: I've already changed. Who knows who I'll be in six months, or however long this takes?"

"I'm not ready to give up on you, Jack."

She was too good for him. Her kindness gripped his heart, and the thought of anything happening to her because of this…It was time to be brutal. His voice was harsh. "Kate, you're not listening to me. I _don't want_ you to wait for me."_ I don't want to do to you what I did to Teri._

Kate jerked back as if he had slapped her. "Oh. I – oh." She turned and started tidying the newspaper nervously.

Behind her, Jack raised his hand as if to comfort her, then let it fall. "I'll pack my things today." He turned his back and went towards the bedroom. As he left, he could hear the soft sounds of her crying.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mister?" Jack woke to feel a small hand on his shoulder. "Mister, are you okay?"

Jack groaned. _Good question_. He took a quick inventory. His jaw hurt, and his stomach, ribs and kidneys ached. His woollen tongue slid over a rough tooth, _That's new,_ and tasted the dried blood in the corner of his mouth. Obviously, he had been in a fight. He wondered vaguely what the other guy looked like.

"Mister?"

Where the hell was he? He felt warm, but whatever he was lying on was hard and lumpy. He could hear traffic and… birds? Was he outside? He groaned again and peeled open one eyelid to see a boy of about eight standing over him, his dark eyes full of concern. Jack closed his eye again.

"Montel?" A woman called in the distance. She sounded pissed. "Montel, you get your ass back here!" The voice was getting closer. "How many times have I told you not to talk to the junkies in the park?"

_Now, **that **hurt_, Jack thought wryly.

"But Ma, I think he's hurt," the kid shouted back. "Maybe we should call an ambulance."

Jack's hand shot out and grabbed the kid around the ankle. He looked up. "Don't," he croaked. "Don't call an ambulance." The kid just stood there calmly, which was odd. Was he used to strange men grabbing his legs? Jack let go and struggled to sit up. "I'm fine. But thank you." He was knocked back to the ground by a handbag swung against his head.

"You fucker! Don't you touch my son!" The woman was going ballistic, beating him around the head and shoulders with her large black bag. "You fucking!" whap. "Piece!" whap. "Of shit!" whap. Jack held up his arms to protect his face.

"Jeez, lady, take it easy."

"Shuddup!" She gave him a kick for good measure.

"Come on, Montel." The woman grabbed the boy's hand. "Let's get out of here."

Jack lay there and watched the boy being dragged across the small park to the street until they disappeared around the corner. He closed his eyes again and listened to the birds while he gathered his thoughts. He would get up in a minute. He just needed another minute….

He could hear the usual pigeons, but he thought maybe that call was a robin. Teri had told him that people further north regarded the return of the robins as the first true sign of spring. Teri loved birds. _Teri…_ Jack rubbed his forehead. For once, he was almost glad she wasn't around. She would hate this.

What exactly was this? Jack tried to think. Last night had been the first time he hadn't paid them. He waited until he was jonesing pretty bad before going to Emilio's. He wasn't really using much more than before, but he was careful to time his interactions to make it look like he was using more heavily than he was. He would buy either soon after he shot up or close to when he'd have to fix again.

Last night he had decided it was time to start running up a tab. He had to be into them for a fair amount before they would let him start working it off. If they would let him work it off. They might just kill him. He hoped he'd struck the right note. He grimaced, remembering.

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"Please, man. I'll get you the money. I just need a little to tide me over." Jack coughed. He didn't have to fake the twitching, but he played it up a bit. He paced jerkily around the almost empty living room of the house that served as Emilio's office.

"Yeah? When you going to get me the money? I'm not a charity, man." Emilio was enjoying this.

"Tomorrow. I can get you the money tomorrow." Jack ran his hand through his hair, pretending to be nervous. "I just need to get my head straight so I can get it for you." He wanted this to be over so he could fix, one way or the other.

"Well, you know, I like you, Jack." Emilio clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I hate to see you like this." The tall, skinny Mexican tilted his head so he was looking down his nose at Jack. "I can set you up with something. But just this once," he warned.

Jack sighed with relief. "Okay, yeah, thanks man. I owe you one."

He was surprised when Emilio started preparing a needle for him. He hadn't anticipated this. Usually he just gave Jack the stuff. Jack tried not to show his fear when he saw the size of the dose. It was more than he was used to, but it was too late to back out now. He started to tie off his arm.

Emilio held out the needle and Jack took it, grateful that the other man would attribute the shaking in his hands to withdrawal. Emilio was watching closely, so there was no way to spill part of it or fake it. Jack took a deep breath and plunged the needle home.

The warmth spread through his veins and he sighed, letting his head fall back. The higher dose made it almost as good as the first time. Jack stumbled and Emilio helped him down onto the stained couch.

He didn't remember anything after that.

Jack rolled over and pushed himself off the hard ground, staying on his hands and knees for a few seconds before he stood up. His legs felt shaky, but he didn't need to fix yet. He reached up and brushed the twigs and grass out of his hair before he checked for his wallet. _Shit._

Thank god he didn't carry much in it, and never his badge when he was undercover. They'd taken his phone, too, but that was no big deal. He'd left the one he used to check in with CTU behind. The one he carried with him had no incriminating numbers on it.

He looked around to get his bearings and started the long walk back to the apartment he was calling home.


	7. Chapter 7

Ramon carefully placed the blanket back over Juan's battered body and went into the hallway, motioning to Emilio to follow him. He closed the bedroom door behind him and they walked towards the stairs. Once they were out of earshot, Ramon turned to his subordinate and asked incredulously, "And you say a junkie did this to him?" Juan was a big guy, and one of his best enforcers. It was difficult to believe that anyone would get the jump on him, let alone a junkie.

Emilio nodded. "Yeah. Name's Jack. He hasn't been around very long, but he's a regular. He was like a machine, man."

Ramon considered this. The injuries Juan had, they weren't what you would get in your average street fight. This Jack guy knew what he was doing. "What's his story?"

"I don't know," Emilio shrugged. "Ex-military, maybe. He's out of work, probably only a month or two from the street."

"Is he into us for very much?"

"No. A hundred bucks, maybe."

Ramon glanced down the hall to the room where Juan lay recuperating. "Okay," he jabbed a finger at Emilio. "I want you to let him run up a big tab. Someone with his skills, we could use."

The chipped and flaking floorboards creaked under the weight of Jack's boots as he crossed the porch. He raised his sunglasses to the top of his head, letting his eyes adjust to the shade as he knocked on the door. To the right of the door a battered red easy chair stood next to a wooden chair with a broken rung. Empty beer bottles were scattered around, a few with candles stuck in them for when the occupants sat outside to enjoy the evening. An old soup can half-filled with cigarette butts was nailed to the wall beside the grimy window. Security bars made the window hard to clean.

Jack propped the wooden screen door open with his back as he rapped his knuckles against the steel inner door again. He could hear movement inside. Someone was checking the peephole. He didn't know if he would be admitted or shot on sight. It all depended on what had happened last night, and as he couldn't remember, there was only one way to find out.

He wasn't sure if even Emilio knew – he might have gotten into the fight sometime after he left here. To be on the safe side, he'd cleaned himself up a bit to downplay his injuries and put on his lucky tan leather coat. Teri called it his 'pimp jacket.' She'd bought it for him at Goodwill and giggled when he put it on for the first time. "Oh, that's-a verra nice," she'd chortled. "Now all you need is a purple fedora." Despite its ugliness, things usually went well for him in this coat.

The door swung open and Emilio motioned Jack inside. "You've got some _cojones_. I can't believe you're showing up here."

Jack shrugged. He wasn't about to admit to anything.

"You almost killed Juan, man."

"I guess he had it coming," Jack replied impassively. In his head he was running through the various ways this scenario could play out. Only a few of them were good.

Emilio laughed and motioned Jack into the kitchen, following close behind. "Yeah, I guess he did."

He took a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and tapped out a smoke. He didn't offer Jack one; he knew that for whatever reason, this was one habit the other man didn't have. "Sit down, Jack. Take a load off." Emilio remained standing, leaning against the sink as he flicked his lighter. He pursed his lips and puffed out a slow stream of smoke, inhaling it again through his nose. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Army."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"Usual. I got fucked up in Afghanistan, and they kicked me out. Not even a pension." He curled his lip into a snarl. "I gave Uncle Sam the best goddam years of my life, and I got dick all in return. What do you care?"

In one smooth motion, Emilio slammed Jack's head onto the kitchen table and held a knife to his throat. "What do I care? You put one of my guys out of commission for a month, man. That's what I care," he hissed. "You ever pull a stunt like that again, and you'll be the one who needs a doctor." He yanked Jack's hair, pulling his neck straight. "You understand me?" The cigarette was clenched in his teeth.

Jack could think of at least three ways to get out of this hold, so he decided to play along. _Amateur._ "Yes," he croaked. The angle of his throat made it difficult to speak.

Emilio jerked again. "Yes what, soldier boy?"

"Yes, sir." Jack replied.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Emilio taunted.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Jack shouted._ What a moron._

Emilio released his grip on Jack's hair, tossing Jack's head to the table. He stepped back, grinning as he put his knife away. "Okay, then." He moved to the other side of the table and sat down, tapping his ashes into a mug. "Now, what can I do for you? D'you got my money?"

Jack rubbed his throat as he sat up and retrieved his sunglasses. "Well, there's a problem with that," he admitted. "I lost my wallet last night."

"Uh, huh. Is that so?"

"But listen, Emilio, there's a guy who owes me some money. I can get it from him tomorrow, and then I can pay you."

To his surprise, the other man had reached into a drawer behind him and was already taking out his kit. "I think I can tide you over."

"That would be great," Jack said eagerly. "But, um, do you think I could take it with me? I don't want a repeat of last night," he laughed nervously.

Emilio laughed too. "Yeah, I guess that would be okay." He tossed a small foil packet onto the table. Jack reached for it, then paused.

"Do you think… I might need some for the morning, too. If I'm going to go see this guy," he added.

Emilio smiled. "Sure, Jack. Whatever you need." The packet was joined by two more. "Why not take a little extra? I'm sure you're good for it. Now get the fuck out of here."

Jack grabbed the packets, stuffing them into the pocket of his jacket as he stood up. "Thanks, man."

As he turned the corner away from the house, Jack lowered his sunglasses and breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like this was going to work out.

He got back to his apartment and reached behind the refrigerator for the cell phone he had taped there. Time to check in. As he waited for someone to pick up, he sat on the couch and pulled the three small foil cubes from his pocket. He made a little tower on the coffee table, flicking it over with his finger. He'd keep two of them for evidence. He'd just started to stack them up again when someone answered.

"Edmunds."

"I'm sorry, who?" Jack had dialled Tony's direct line.

"This is Agent Edmunds. Who's this?"

Oh, great. The new guy. "Is Agent Almeida there?"

"Agent Bauer?"

Jack sighed impatiently. "Chase, right? Is Tony there?"

"He had to step out. He asked me to take your call if you checked in."

"Fine. You can tell him I've started to run up a tab, and they seem more than willing to let me. I think they think I might be useful to them." The sound of Chase typing the information into the logs could be heard on the other end of the line.

"How do you figure that?" The typing stopped.

Jack smiled. "Because I beat up one of their guys last night. I guess they were impressed."

"Anything we need to know about, Agent Bauer?"

"No. It was one of their enforcers, a Juan Perez. He'll be fine."

The typing started again. "Okay. Anything else?"

Jack looked at the foil packets on the table. "No, that's all." He flipped the phone shut and returned it to its hiding place. He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, then checked his watch as he went for his kit. Close enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Don't own it. Now this board is up to date, so back to the grindstone for me. Big presentation on Monday...

xxxxx

"This is the guy?" Hector sounded doubtful.

Emilio nodded.

"_This_ guy beat up Juan?" Hector was unconvinced.

Emilio had to admit that Jack did not look very impressive at the moment. His eyes travelled up Jack's body, noting the belt cinching up the extra fabric around the waistband of his jeans. He could tell there were some muscles under the thin grey long-sleeved t-shirt, but seeing Jack lying down, it was obvious how skinny he was. The blond man's face was pale and waxy, and a two-day growth of beard glinted in the dim light from the overhead bulb.

"He's not very big." Hector rubbed his chin. Still, Ramon had heard about this guy on his last trip to L.A. and he'd asked Hector to check him out. Hector lifted his foot and used the toe of his boot to nudge Jack's leg, which was hanging over the edge of the rough brown couch. There was no response. "How much did he take?"

"I just gave him what he usually buys." It was Emilio's turn to look doubtful. "He don't usually shoot up here, though."

"You better not let him O.D. until Ramon gets what he wants. This guy owes us a lot of money now." Hector watched him for a minute and made a decision. "Okay. Wake him up." He walked across the room and peered out the window, listening to Emilio slapping Jack's face. There was a yelp, and he turned to see Emilio pinned to the couch, the skinny guy's knee on his chest. Hector laughed. "That was fast."

Jack looked up, disoriented at the sound of a new voice. He seemed confused as he glanced from Ramon to Emilio, and he was obviously stoned out of his mind. But Ramon could see something else in his eyes – a flintiness that suggested if you struck him the wrong way, sparks would fly.

Jack apparently realized where he was, because he let go of Emilio and stood up. "Sorry, man, you startled me."

"Pull yourself together, Jack. Hector has a job for you. It's time you started paying off some of your debts."

Jack tilted his head. "What?" _Dammit. He hadn't wanted to be high for his first meeting. _He tried to snap himself out of it.

Emilio rose and pushed Jack in the chest, knocking him off balance so he was forced to take a step backward. "Your debts, Jack."

Jack reached for his wallet. "Oh, yeah," he gave a short laugh. "Dammit, Emilio, I keep forgetting. How much do I owe you?" He knew exactly, but he was interested to see if Emilio did.

"I don't think you got enough in that wallet, Jack." Emilo laughed. "You're into me for 20 grand."

"Twenty... Wha--?" Jack rubbed his neck. "Are you sure?" He looked around nervously, as if he were thinking of running. "Shit, man, I can get it to you. It's just going to take me some time..."

Emilio put up his hand to silence Jack. "Jack, you know I like you, man. So here's what we're going to do. This is my buddy Hector. He has a little work we think you might be good at. Do some work for us, we'll call it even. Everybody wins, right?"

Jack let his hand fall from his neck and moved to shake Hector's hand. "Okay. Yeah, sounds good. Pleased to meet you, Hector."

xxxxxxx

Jack's heart sank as he quietly moved past the car parked in the driveway beside the house. There were two car seats in the back of the sedan – one for a baby. He hoped the kids weren't home, but given the lateness of the hour, they probably were. He got into position outside the back entrance as he heard Hector pounding on the front door. Sure enough, the back door swung open and a man in dress pants, a white shirt and a loose tie tried to sneak through it. Jack blocked his way. "Going somewhere?"

He spun the man around and pinned him up against the wall of the house, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

"You're hurting me," the man whimpered.

"Trust me, I haven't even started to hurt you." Jack growled as he frog-marched the man back into the kitchen. Hector and Emilio were waiting for him. Jack flung the man onto a kitchen chair and knocked him out with a quick punch. He grabbed an apron off the back of the door and used it to tie the man to the chair, leaving one hand free. He moved to the cupboard and got a glass. Jack filled it and tossed cold water in the man's face, reviving him.

"David Jones?" The man opened his mouth and Jack clamped his hand over it, hissing "Think carefully before you yell. Wouldn't want to wake the kids, now, would we?"

The man's eyes widened and he nodded. Jack dropped his hand.

"Now, Mr. Jones," Jack leaned in close to his face. "I believe you owe my friend here," he nodded at Hector over his shoulder, "some money. Quite a lot of money, if I understand correctly, is that right?"

"I can get it for you!" The man spluttered.

"Well, now, that would be good, wouldn't it?" Jack straightened and turned away slightly, grabbing the man's hand as he turned. There was a satisfying snap and the man screamed. Jack spun around and clamped his hand over David's mouth again. "Shhh. Remember the children?" His tone was mocking. "You want to do what's best for them, don't you?" Jack had no respect for a man who could put his family in danger.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes. You were saying you would get my friend here his money." Jack leaned in and tilted his head. "There's a problem with that, Mr. Jones. You see, we don't believe you." He reached for the man's hand again, holding it by the broken finger.

Mr. Jones grimaced in pain. "Please," he begged. "Take anything you want. Just don't hurt my family."

Jack nodded. "That's the spirit."

Emilio took the car keys from the hook by the door and he and Jack started loading it with the big-screen TV and other electronics. Jack removed the car seats and set them on the driveway. "Need more room," he answered Emilio's questioning look. Daddy the junkie might not think to get them new ones if they took these, and Jack didn't want to put the kids in any more danger than they already lived with every day.

They finished up and returned to the house. The man was cradling his hand in his lap, tears running down his face as he sobbed quietly.

Hector looked at Jack. "Finish up."

Jack wasn't sure he'd understood.

"Teach this punk a lesson, man." Hector clarified. "A broken finger is nursery school shit. Show me what you can do."

Jack nodded and untied the man, hauling him to his feet. David saw an opportunity and took a swing at Jack, but Jack blocked it easily and punched him in the stomach. Jack's blows fell in quick succession as he put on a good show for Hector. He chose the sites that offered lots of blood and pain, but ensured the man would survive the beating. His last blow struck the man to the floor, unconscious. Jack looked up to see Hector and Emilio smiling, and another, horrified face down the hallway. The small face disappeared and Jack moved into the hall before Hector and Emilio knew what was happening.

"Shhh, baby. I'll go see." Jack could hear a woman's voice through the bedroom door. He stood back as the door opened, and a woman in a housecoat stepped out. She stopped when she saw Jack. She leaned back into the room. "It's okay, honey. It's just some men to see Daddy. Go back to sleep." She closed the door behind her and turned to face Jack, staring at him defiantly. "You keep us out of this."

Hector appeared at the other end of the hall. "Come on, Jack, let's go."

"I'll be there in a minute." Jack called over his shoulder. He could see the bruises around the woman's neck. It seemed heroin wasn't the only thing Mr. Jones was abusing.

Hector smiled. "Want a little piece of that, do you? Don't take too long, man."

"Be right there." Jack reached out a hand and grabbed the woman's head, pulling her towards him. She trembled in fear. He slid his other hand down her hip as he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "You need to get yourself and those kids out of here. Now. There's a shelter a few blocks away." He slipped some money into her housecoat pocket. "Hit me," he instructed.

She searched his eyes, unsure. He nodded slightly, so she raised her hands and slapped at him. "Leave me alone, you creep!" She kneed him in the groin for good measure and Jack buckled, grabbing at the wall for support. Hector started to laugh.

"Leave her, Jack. She's too much woman for you!"

Jack hobbled painfully down the hall, Hector laughing at him all the way. He was still laughing as he and Jack drove away in the Jones' car. "You're all right Jack. I think we'll keep you around."

Jack shot him a look. "Thanks," he grunted, and leaned back in his seat, nursing his tender groin.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack spat and wrapped the chamois around the first two fingers of his right hand, blending that small, expendable part of himself with blackness to make a hard shell. Impervious. Impenetrable. 

He held the boot up to the light and buffed it until he was satisfied with its shine. Placing it carefully on the newspaper he'd laid down on the kitchen floor, he reached for the other boot and went through the same ritual.

He knew he didn't have to do this. Hector and Emilio probably wouldn't even notice, or if they did, they would mock him. 

But some habits die hard. 

He could no more go into battle with scuffed boots than he could prepare for a fight without checking his gun. The last was self-preservation. The first was a sign of respect for those who were about to die. 

Tonight it would be someone from the rival gang of poor black kids with no way out of the mess they'd found themselves in. Jack understood that they were, in their own way, trying to better themselves by moving in on the Salazar's territory. Tonight it was his job to ensure they failed. He regretted it, but it was what had to be done. There were larger things at stake.

Jack lined up his left boot next to the right one and stood, stretching. 

The glimmer of foil on the counter caught his eye. He hesitated, struggling. This was not part of his ritual. He had never, ever used anything before a mission.

But some habits die hard. 

His eyes flicked to the clock on the microwave and his hand reached for his kit, almost of its own accord. Just a small hit. He had to be on his game tonight. He tied off and watched his worry and disgust disappearing along with the thin brown fluid in the syringe. 

Jack threw back his head, letting the hand holding the needle fall to his side as he warmed himself on that tiny liquid flame.

He waited a few minutes to steady himself, then reached for his boots. He could see himself reflected in their gleaming darkness as he laced them up. It was time to face the night.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm so sorry! I completely forgot to update over here. In recompense, here's a few chapters.

XXXXXXX

Chapter 10

Jack's fingers tightened around the arm rest as the plane dropped and tilted with a sickening lurch.

"I didn't peg you for a nervous flier, Jack" Hector's voice cut into Jack's thoughts and he looked down to see that his knuckles were white. Embarrassed, he loosened his grip and gave a small laugh.

"I'm just hungover," he lied.

He really should be, after the going-away party Emilio had thrown for him last night, but his tolerance had built up over the past few months. If he kept up this pace, he wouldn't be surprised if he woke up one morning with the DTs. How he would distinguish them from the urge to fix would be anyone's guess.

He supposed he should be more worried about this than he was, but he'd also built up his ability to push his concerns aside. He told himself it was just one of the many things that needed to be done, and now it was bearing fruit. He was being transferred to work directly for Ramon Salazar in Mexico. They were flying in low under the cover of night. No need to advertise to the DEA that they were bringing in a new man. They would find out soon enough.

"The ride's been a little rough."

Hector laughed and tossed him a small bottle of tequila from the mini-bar. "Hair of the dog, man."

Jack grinned and downed the drink, more grateful for it than he liked to admit. But not because of his habits. Even if he could have told Hector the real reason for his distress, he wouldn't have. It was far too personal.

The last time he'd been on a plane like this, it had been shot out of the sky. The sudden lurch had dropped him back into that day, and it was like she was right there with him. He could smell the prison shampoo in her hair as she leaned in close to mock him, see every curve of the body he'd once enjoyed as he forced her to change in front of them. Her humiliation had been exhilarating.

Between the drugs and the parties and the actual work, he hadn't thought of her for months. Jack had almost begun to believe he was getting over it by getting on with it. But all he'd been getting was stoned. All it took was one bit of turbulence and his hatred flooded back.

He rarely gave in to hate. Hate made people weak and clouded their judgement. It was a luxury he couldn't afford, but he had anted up for Nina. And with every drink he took or needle he pushed home, he paid a little more. Even as they helped dull the pain, the drugs were just one more goddamn way she had turned the tables and trapped him.

Jack swallowed, feeling the burn as the liquor slid down his throat to his churning stomach. Without realizing it, his hand flexed around the ridiculously small bottle, snapping off the neck.

Hector's laugh came again, this time with less good humour. Jack glanced at him and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. Hector was taking a big chance moving Jack up to the big leagues, and Jack was paying him back by looking like a pussy because of a few air pockets.

Jack shook away thoughts of Nina to focus on the task at hand. "So show me where Ramon wants to set up the drop."

Hector nodded, relieved that Jack was getting down to business. He pulled out a tattered building plan, spreading it on the table in front of them. Jack analysed it quickly and efficiently, pointing out several weak areas and suggesting ways to cover them off. Hector began to relax.

Sooner than Jack would have thought possible, they were starting their descent into the darkness. Ramon was waiting for them.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack knows he shouldn't be driving

Jack knows he shouldn't be driving. He probably shouldn't even be _walking_, he's so trashed. He definitely shouldn't be heading into a gun fight. Unfortunately, high as he is, he's not quite high enough not to care.

But he has no choice; Ramon had thrown a party, and the other guys were in worse shape than he was. He'd been cutting back, really he had, and now that they knew and accepted him, it was easier for him to let the others go first so they wouldn't notice how much he was taking. Except Ramon. Ramon had noticed. That's why he'd made sure Jack did his share of 'relaxing' before he decided they should go bust some heads in the village.

_Fucking Ramon._

Of course, Jack understood. Ramon knew Jack was a junkie; he wanted to see if Jack could still perform even when he was stoned. Otherwise Jack was just a liability. Unpredictable, undependable. So Jack had no choice but play along even as he'd tried to talk Ramon out of this mission. Ramon wasn't easily dissuaded once he'd set his mind to something.

Which is why Jack finds himself here, steering into the middle of the road. He's trying to keep the centre line firmly between the headlights as they barrel through the dark, praying he'll be able to swerve in time to miss anyone coming the other way.

He's going to kill someone tonight regardless, but he doesn't want it to be someone innocent.

The SUV rounds a bend and headlights suddenly loom into view, blinding him. Jack jerks the steering wheel and feels the sickening lurch of the right wheels hitting the gravel shoulder. Years of practice and training tell his muscles what to do, even if his mind can't, and he doesn't over correct. He holds the shoulder until the vehicle passes – a bus. A fucking public transit bus packed with families. _Jesus._ He eases back onto the road and feels the sweat on his palms making the steering wheel slippery. Beside him, Ramon is laughing and cheering, smacking the dash with approval.

The speedball and adrenaline and alcohol coursing through Jack's veins makes it more difficult than usual to resist reaching over to grab the son-of-a-bitch and rip his throat out. He's jittery, on edge, ready for action. They'd better get there soon.

XXXX

An hour later he's driving back and coming down hard. The coke has worn off and he's worried he might have got the mix wrong, taken too much heroin. He was already pretty drunk when he cooked the dose. He's got the window rolled down to help keep him awake, but even so, the centre line seems to shift more often, wandering through the night.

This time Ramon is quiet, subdued. Moans come from the back seat as Juan tries to stem the bleeding in Diego's shoulder. He's having a hard time because Diego keeps fighting him. Young guys, both of them. Promising, but careless and invincible. Or not.

Jack knows he doesn't have to tell Ramon he told him so. He knows that despite the one injury, Ramon found out what he needed to know, and Jack passed with flying colours.

The other gang didn't even see what hit them. The raid has helped the Salazars punch a hole in their rival's supply line and solidified their position in the lucrative trade near Mexico City. Ramon said the territory was necessary to provide some cash flow for another deal he's brokering. A big one, not drugs, but he won't tell Jack what it is. He's pleased, though. Jack's performance tonight has convinced him to bring Jack along.

Jack hopes it will be worth it. The whole raid was like a dream. All he can remember are random images of gunfire and screaming and blood. He's amazed he survived.

He gets back to his room and all he wants to do is sleep. His limbs feel like they're underwater, floating and hard to move at the same time. He shucks off the Kevlar vest that he convinced Ramon to buy for all the guys and falls onto his bed, still in his jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt. The red glow of the clock radio on his dresser catches his eye and triggers a thought far back in his brain. Shit. He's supposed to call in today.

Jack hauls himself up again, fighting the urge to pass out, and checks the door and hallway. Nobody around. Everyone else is probably as tired as he is. He closes the door quietly and retrieves his Blackberry from its hiding place. The blue glow from the screen highlights the haggardness of his face as he opens the messenger program. Thank god he doesn't have to talk. He's sure they would be able to tell how loaded he is. Texting is safer all round.

At CTU in Los Angeles, Chase's computer pings and he excuses himself from his conversation with Chloe. He reads the short summary of Jack's activities for the week and replies with Tony's report from his end. Then he adds something.

_K called. She says it's happening on June 17._

Jack's forehead wrinkles. What is happening? What is he supposed to remember? He can't think. Fuck, he hates the drugs sometimes. If only it were more than sometimes.

_Where?_

_She said you'd know._

Shit. No clues. Of course not. He'd been very specific that anything about his family should be kept vague in case it was intercepted. Maybe this will mean something to him tomorrow.

_She wants to know if you're coming._

Coming to what? Think, Jack.

_I'll be there._

Chase's heart sinks. That is going to be a logistical nightmare. But he can understand why Jack wouldn't want to miss his daughter's graduation from college. Chase wonders if he can be Jack's back-up that day. She sounded pretty cute on the phone.

Jack signs off and returns the phone to its hiding place before collapsing on the bed again. As consciousness slips away from him, he hopes he'll remember this in the morning. If he wakes up in the morning.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack walked across the yard, enjoying the morning sunshine

Jack sauntered across the yard, enjoying the morning sunshine. It was going to be a nice day and he felt better than he had in a long time. His program to wean himself off the drugs seemed to be working, as he'd only needed a small fix when he woke up. Not enough to get him high, just enough to take the edge off. He'd even felt good enough to go for a run. His hair was still damp from the shower and he could feel a few drops of water trailing down his neck.

His boots crunched on the gravel as he crossed the driveway to the corral. A fine-boned Arabian horse pricked up her ears and came over to the fence to greet him, knowing she'd get her nose scratched. Jack spent a few minutes patting her, running his hand along the smooth bronze velvet of her neck, talking to her softly. She nuzzled his shoulder and he laughed, reaching into his t-shirt pocket for the small oat-cake he had in there for her. He gave her a last scratch and headed up to the main house to see about his own breakfast.

As he rounded the corner, he was surprised to see a boy of about eight sitting on the porch steps, cradling a baseball and glove in his lap. Another, larger glove sat beside him. He rested his head listlessly on one hand, his mouth creased into a frown. Jack paused at the bottom of the stairs, resting one foot on the bottom step.

"_Hola_," Jack said, in the same soft tone he'd used to talk to the horse.

The boy looked up, squinting into the sun. Jack moved sideways so the boy's face was in his shadow and raised his sunglasses to the top of his head. "Are you Sergio?"

Hector had told him his girlfriend and her little brother were coming, but he hadn't expected them until tomorrow. Hector and Ramon were away for a few days. Jack had been disappointed not to go along. He thought something big was coming up, but he hadn't been getting much intel lately. It was difficult to be patient when every day with Ramon seemed to be pushing him further from the person he wanted to be.

"_Si_."

"I'm Jack. I work for your… I work for Ramon and Hector."

The boy nodded. "Hector's away," he replied sullenly.

"Yeah. He'll be back tomorrow." Jack raised his chin to indicate the glove on the porch. "Whatcha got there?"

The boy raised an eyebrow at Jack. "It's a baseball glove." _Duh_, his face added.

"Huh. How about that." Jack smiled to himself. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Yeah."

"Want to show me?"

Sergio studied Jack for a moment, sizing him up. "Okay." He tossed the glove to Jack and Jack slipped it on. It could use some softening up. Whoever owned it hadn't used it very often. Sergio slipped past him and took up a position about ten feet away.

"Ready?" he called.

Jack nodded and Sergio tossed the ball, a bit wide. Jack reached and caught it in his glove. He tossed it back to Sergio, aiming for the glove. Sergio's glove was a bit stiff too, because the ball slipped out. He bent and picked it up, throwing it back to Jack.

A few more times back and forth and it was clear that no one had taught this kid anything about baseball. Jack started giving him a few pointers. Sergio was eager to learn and a good listener. Soon he was catching almost every throw.

"Yeah!" Jack laughed as Sergio whipped the ball at him hard and straight. "You're doing great! Here it comes. Ease back as you catch and it won't hurt as much."

He lobbed the ball back and turned as he heard the screen door open behind him. A woman with long dark hair was striding across the porch, her red knit dress clinging low on her chest. Jack swallowed.

"Sergio! Go inside." The woman sounded angry.

"Aw, man. Why?"

"Because I said so. Go!" She touched her brother's back as he passed, hurrying him along, and turned to Jack, her eyes snapping.

"You must be new. Are you one of Ramon's men?"

"Yeah. I'm Jack. You must be Claudia." He smiled and extended his hand to her, but she crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"I don't like Sergio talking to the men."

Jack dropped his hand and gave a short, silent nod, his jaw muscles tensing. He couldn't disagree with her. A bunch of drug-addled thugs were not good company for a young boy. He wished he could tell her that he was different, but having shot up only a few hours ago, he knew he didn't have much of a case.

"No offence." Her face was a mask, her eyes unreadable.

"None taken." He dipped his head, looking down and away to hide his shame. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It won't happen again."

His good mood gone, he placed the glove gently on the step. "Look, I just need to get some breakfast, then I'll get out of your way."

She motioned him inside with a flick of her head and stood aside. He brushed past her but stopped and held the screen door open for her to enter first. She looked at him, surprise flashing on her face before the aloof mask settled in again.

Inside the spacious kitchen, Claudia sat at the island and watched Jack make some scrambled eggs. She'd offered to do it, but he had refused. He was clearly uncomfortable having her there, even though he had politely asked if he could make something for her as well.

She was curious about this man. It was unusual for Ramon and Hector to hire Americans, and they had never brought one here before. She'd certainly never had any of the men offer to cook for her. Most of them expected her to wait on them hand and foot.

She studied him when he turned away from her to the stove. He moved quickly and easily, like a cat. His white t-shirt revealed strong shoulders and slim but muscular tattooed arms. He must have lost some weight recently, because his jeans were slung low over his hips, highlighting the curve of his ass. She shook her head slightly, but decided there was no harm in looking.

He swung around and leaned across the counter to place a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. She could smell the musky scent of his soap and shampoo, again, unusual for Ramon's men to be so clean. And then she saw the track marks. Her lip curled in disgust. He was just like all the others. But he was good with Sergio, and an American…

Jack noticed her revulsion and thought he'd done something wrong with the breakfast until he followed her eyes. He poured them both some coffee before he moved to the other end of the counter. He sat down and started to eat, wanting to get out of there quickly. He didn't have to explain himself to her. She was the one who had chosen all of this. He would be leaving soon, but this was her real life.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "So, Jack, is it?"

"Yeah," he grunted, pushing some more eggs onto his fork with his toast, his arms wrapped protectively around his plate.

"Ramon must really trust you to leave you here alone."

Jack glanced at her sideways, taking a sip of his coffee before replying. "Yeah." He set the mug down and resumed eating.

"Where'd you come from?"

He had to be nice, she was the boss's girlfriend. "L.A." But not too nice.

Claudia studied him. "And what did you do in L.A.?"

Finished his meal, Jack put down his fork and pushed his plate away from him. "The usual."

"You wouldn't be here if it was just the 'usual.'"

He picked up his coffee and swivelled to face her, leaning his elbow on the counter as he took a sip. "Oh no? You don't think so?" He was amused.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and crossed her legs slowly. Jack avoided looking at her tanned calves and well-manicured feet in their strappy sandals.

"No. Ramon doesn't bring many outsiders here."

"Fair enough." Jack looked down, tenting his fingers over his coffee mug and twisting it idly. "I was in the Army for a while. I guess Ramon figured I had skills he could use."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

She leaned forward, her dress revealing more than was strictly appropriate. Jack took another sip of coffee, staring studiously into the mug.

"You've got skills, do you?"

Was she flirting with him? Seriously? _Jeez, lady, that's a good way to get us both killed_. On the other hand, she could be an asset. Or a trap. He'd have to tread carefully, but it was worth exploring.

He lifted the corner of his mouth in an ironic smile. "So how about you? What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Claudia rewarded his lame joke with a laugh. "The usual."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I met Hector in Huatulco on holiday one year," she shrugged. "He was charming, I was poor. He's been good to me and my family."

"I see. He can be a good guy."

She met his gaze, her eyes soft and sad, her full lips pouting slightly. "He can be. When he wants to."

Jack broke the gaze and gathered up their plates, carrying them to the dishwasher. This was far enough for today. He could feel her watching him as he lifted the pan into the sink.

"Leave it. I'll do it." She was right behind him, her hand reaching around to stop his as it touched the faucet. He froze, almost afraid to breathe. He could feel her thigh lightly brushing the back of his leg.

"Are you sure?" His voice sounded ragged, even to him. _Jesus._ What the hell was she up to?

"I'm sure." She whispered, right beside his ear.

Jack placed the pan down carefully and stepped aside to put some distance between them before he faced her. "Okay, thanks." He picked up his sunglasses from the counter and strolled towards the door. "I should be getting to work."

He didn't want her to think he was running away, but this was moving too fast for his comfort level. He'd never had trouble getting women, but he was under no illusions – he wasn't _that_ irresistible. She had an agenda, he just wasn't sure what it was. His hand on the door handle, he turned.

"Tell Sergio to put a ball in his glove and wrap it up tight with an elastic. That'll help soften it."

Claudia nodded and Jack stepped back into the sunlight. He had some thinking to do.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I'm so amazed you're still out there reading! Thanks to Heather O'Neill's _Lullabies for Little Criminals_ for inspiring the smack scenes.

xxxxx

The room wasn't spinning, exactly. More like pulsing. A slow ebb and flow that meant if Claudia turned her head too quickly, it took a while for the objects to catch up. That's why she had to look long and hard to make sure that what she was seeing across the room was really Hector and one of Ramon's high-class call girls. When they disappeared, Hector leading her up the stairs to the bedrooms, Claudia stood up. The floor tilted a bit and as she reached out to the table beside her to find her balance, her hand brushed a half-empty bottle of tequila. She picked it up and walked quickly toward the door. She had to get out of here.

She always walked quickly when she was drunk. There was less chance of one of those slow-moving parts of the room being able to catch up to her and trip her. She'd forgotten about the little step down to the porch, though, and found herself falling into the cool night air.

xxxxx

Jack barely had time to withdraw the needle before he couldn't move. The night enveloped him in softness, like sinking into the deepest feather bed imaginable. Once, when he was a kid, someone had given him a lucky rabbit's foot. He used to hold it against his cheek and feel the fur tickling his skin. The night was soft like that. He could lie in its folds for hours.

This was some damn good smack, better than the stuff he'd taken earlier, when Ramon and Hector had taken him for the tattoo. He couldn't remember why he'd been cutting back. Why would he resist feeling like this?

In a while he was able to peel back the bandage on his arm to take a look at his new artwork. The skin was red and angry-looking, but the Virgin's face floated up above the carnage and spoke to him.

"_Love powers the foot soldiers of the righteous_," she cooed. Her voice was like tiny silver bells ringing over a wedding cake. "_Your broken heart makes you the holder of the world._"

Jack had no clue what the fuck she was talking about, but it sounded beautiful and profound. He wished she would keep talking. God, he was stoned.

The door opened and an angel was expelled from heaven, pushed through a square of light, tumbling down to earth. He had to save her – earth was so hard and dirty. He reached and caught her just in time, and was surprised when the angel had Claudia's face. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was so beautiful, it hurt to look at her and he had to step back to keep from weeping.

xxxxx

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her and a low, velvety sound caused her to turn her head.

"Easy, now."

Jack. Using that calm, reassuring voice she had heard him use with the horses after Hector had got them all riled up. Claudia regained her footing and stood, enjoying the feeling of his hand on her arm as he made sure she wasn't going to tip over. She reached up and sloppily pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Thank you." Claudia looked at him blearily as he grunted in reply. Even in the dark of the porch, his pupils were pinpricks. So she'd been right about him. She took no satisfaction in that. His eyes were open and flat, as if he were under water. They were startlingly blue. And green. She had never noticed that before.

"Blue and green should never be seen," she giggled, steadying herself against his arm. He smiled beatifically, calm and slightly puzzled.

She studied him for a minute. The skin around his eyes was crinkled and he hadn't bothered shaving. He looked tired, worried about something, maybe. It was an interesting contrast to the men inside. There was something about him that didn't add up.

Yes, he was a junkie, but there was also a gentle side to him, and she had seen him stand up to Hector and Ramon more than once if he thought something wasn't right. The one time she'd got up the nerve to ask Hector about him, all he'd said was that he drove Ramon crazy, but he was talented and so they'd keep him around for a while. She guessed they'd decided more than a while, now.

"You out here all alone?"

He nodded, letting go of her arm and taking a step back. "Yeah."

Curious, her eyes wandered to the bandage on his arm. The party was supposed to be for him, in celebration of his tattoo. The hookers and booze where Ramon's way of welcoming him to the family. But here was Jack, all by himself in the dark while the music raged away inside. She decided Hector wasn't the only one who could have a little fun. Maybe she could cheer him up while paying Hector back for ignoring her. The danger made it more exciting.

The night was hot and she was restless. There was a current running through her that might have been the jealousy or the alcohol or the joint she had smoked earlier, but getting close to this man was causing it to arc between them. She could almost see the blue glow in the crackling air.

She held up the bottle. "Drink?"

He shrugged and took it from her. "Okay." He took a swig and passed it back.

She lost her balance as she raised it to her lips and fell against him, giggling. "Hmmm. I think I need some air. Walk with me?"

Jack checked over his shoulder through the window. Through his haze he knew that being seen alone with Claudia would be his death warrant. But everyone seemed to be occupied inside, and there was no one else around out here. _Fuck it._

He was glad of the opportunity to get away from the party, but the fresh breeze in the yard blew some of the cobwebs from his mind and let the thoughts show through. His arm hurt from the tattoo and he was stoned again. Despite his best efforts to resist the lure of the drugs, the monkey had hopped on his back and it was taking him for a ride.

His own private rehab plan had gone down the toilet about a week ago after a particularly nasty ambush. They'd lost two guys and captured one of the others. Ramon had got Jack to do the interrogation. It was a part of his job that Jack was good at, but usually he had a better reason. And usually the informant wasn't a fourteen year-old kid. Thank god Jack had been able to break him easily, but the kid would never be the same. The only reason Jack had done it was because he knew Ramon's methods were worse than his own. The needle had scratched the kid's face from Jack's brain that night so he could sleep.

His 'success' with the kid was what had prompted Ramon to invite him to get the tatt. Jack should have been happy – it was one step closer into the inner circle. But he was beginning to suspect that he was never going to get what he wanted from Ramon. Not without staying for years. And he knew if he stayed for years he might as well be dead because there was no way he was going to get clean working for Ramon.

Up until recently, he had honestly believed the heroin was something he could take or leave. In the beginning he had loved the way they made him feel, even if they made his life more complicated. He could rationalize that he was doing it for his job.

Jack had thought he'd managed to get his life back together: he was back at CTU, Kim was talking to him, he'd had a good thing going with Kate. But on the plane on the way down here he had been forced to face the fact that the pain hadn't gone away, it had just been pushed so far down he'd been able to fool himself into thinking he could ignore it. Every time it bubbled to the surface, he could just pour a little more brown liquid into his veins and it went away again.

It sounded so trite and stupid, but he had thought he could quit any time he wanted. Plainly that wasn't true. Of all the terms he used to describe himself, weak-willed wasn't one of them, and it was bothering him that this thing had a hold on him and he didn't know how to shake it.

He had to get out of here.

In the meantime, here was Claudia. The classic damsel in distress. The feel of her thigh against him in the kitchen the first time they'd met had been haunting his dreams, and he'd been watching her over the past few weeks. He had seen how Hector used her father and brother to keep her here. As badly off as he was himself, she seemed like someone who could use his help. It would be nice to play the hero for a while. It didn't hurt that the strap of her dress had slipped off her shoulder when she'd tripped out onto the porch, exposing the top of one perfectly-curved breast. He was just slightly too high to realize how drunk she was, and definitely too high to fully appreciate how much he was letting his dick do the thinking.

Claudia leaned against him as he helped her down the steps and they walked across the yard to the corral. They stopped and she clung to the top rail of the fence with one hand, leaning back to look at the stars, swinging back and forth so her dress billowed out around her legs. "Beautiful."

"Yes," Jack agreed, but he wasn't looking up. He was looking at her.

She took a pull from the bottle and swung over to pass it to him. He took a swig and almost dropped it when the mouth of the bottle was replaced by her lips. Startled, he pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, slurring slightly.

"Don't be. It's just – not here."

He scanned the yard before he took her hand and led her to the barn, finding a dark corner near the tack room. She leaned up against the wall and he pressed hard against her, his mouth finding hers. She kissed him frantically, her hands in his hair as he gathered her skirt up her smooth thighs. A moment of fumbling and she moaned and then cried out. He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shhh… You have to be quiet."

She nodded and licked his fingers slowly, languorously. Jack sighed as he gave himself to the pleasure.

When it was over, they sat on a hay bale and passed the bottle back and forth as they talked. Claudia was starting to get weepy and Jack had come down enough to notice and feel ashamed and a bit alarmed. This had been a definite lapse in judgement. She was still beautiful, though, even if she wasn't the angel of his hallucination.

"I just want all this to stop. I want to leave, but I know Hector won't let me. I feel so trapped."

Jack stroked her hair as she leaned into his shoulder. "Claudia, listen to me. You will get out of here."

She pulled away so she could meet his eyes. "I don't think so, Jack. Hector…"

His voice was earnest, intense. "Claudia, I will help you get out of here. I give you my word."

She tilted her head quizzically. "Your word, Jack? What can you do? Ramon has you just as trapped as me."

He had to be careful. He wasn't sure how much he could trust her. After what had just happened, he hoped a lot. "I don't know," he admitted, dropping his head. He ran his left hand through his hair. "I don't know, but I'll find a way."

She gave a small laugh. "Okay. Mr. Big American Hero." She closed her eyes and leaned into him again

Jack let her rest that way for a moment before nudging her. "We need to get back before we're missed."

"Mmmmm." She shifted, getting more comfortable.

"No, Claudia. Wake up. We need to get back. Now." _Dammit_. If she passed out, they really would be screwed. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled and fell back onto the hay bale, laughing. Jack went to the door and peered out. There was no one in the yard. The thump of the bass and laughter from the house carried on the night air. He returned to Claudia and quickly pulled her up, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman hold, staggering slightly. She giggled.

"Claudia, I need you to be quiet. I'm going to take you back to the house."

"Okay. Shhhhh…." She giggled again, putting her finger to her lips before going slack.

He carried her back to the house as rapidly as he could, taking cover in the trees around the yard. There was no one in the front of the house, and he eased the door open silently, awkwardly manoeuvring the two of them inside. He found the small den off the foyer and laid Claudia on the couch. She was out cold. He paused, then rearranged her so she was lying on her side in a casual-looking version of the recovery position. Just as quietly as he had come in, he left and moved back around the house to the side yard. He crossed the yard stealthily through the shadows and then stepped out into the light, walking straight towards the porch.

Juan was sitting on the bench, his arm around a girl. "Hey Jack. Where you been? Hector's looking for you."

Jack reached the steps and shrugged. "I just went for a walk. I needed some air."

The door opened and Hector came out. "Jack, there you are, man. Have you seen Claudia?"

"Lost her, have you?"

"Yeah. I want her to make me some tacos. I'm getting hungry."

"Haven't seen her for a while. Want me to help you look?"

"Nah, that's okay. She'll turn up. Maria here can make me something." Hector jutted his chin at the girl sitting next to Juan. She stood up and went inside without a word.

Hector walked over and sat on the steps, pulling a joint out of his shirt pocket. He lit it, inhaling deeply before offering it to Jack. "Check this out," he offered, talking around the need to exhale.

Jack really didn't want it, but he took a hit, grimacing as the smoke hit his lungs. "Holy shit."

"B.C. Gold, man. Good product. We're thinking of taking on a partner up there."

Jack nodded, and held out the joint for Hector to take. "There'd be a market for that. That's some strong shit."

"I knew you'd appreciate it." The two men sat on the steps, passing it back and forth until Hector ground out the roach under his heel. He clapped Jack on the back. "It's good to have you in the family, Jack."

Jack grunted, feeling the thick quilt of the night wrap itself around his shoulders again. There wasn't much he could say to that. Under his bandage, the Virgin on his arm closed her eyes in sorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

"Bauer, Kimberly."

There were whoops and cheers as Kim crossed the stage to collect her degree from the smiling President of Santa Monica College. He held out the parchment in one hand and extended his right underneath it so the school photographer could snap their picture. In the crowd, Carol stood up and zoomed in as far as her small camera would go to capture the moment.

Far in the back, hidden in the shadows of the convocation hall, Jack smiled. He was relieved that Carol and Dan, and Kitty and her husband had showed up to round out the claque of friends. Kim deserved to have some family that she could see at her graduation. She knew he was there, of course. At least, she knew he had promised to be there, and she was aware of the extra security assigned to her. He hoped she would trust that he had actually made it.

Yesterday had stopped by his storage locker and picked up a gift to send: one of Teri's favourite pieces of jewelry. His note wouldn't make up for his absence, but he had tried to put some of what he might have said into it.

_Kimberly,_

_I remember your Mom and I holding your hands on that first day of school. We were all so nervous and excited. Your Mom's hand was often in this bracelet as she guided you through the years. You don't need hand-holding any more, but when you wear it, know that although she had to let you go, she will never leave you._

_I'm proud of you, Sweetheart._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Jack was taken off guard by the welling lump in his throat as he saw his daughter reach this milestone. It hadn't been easy to get here, either for her or for him. It was true; it seemed like just last week that she was standing on a chair in a home-made mortarboard announcing to her pre-school class that when she grew up, she wanted to be… a teenager.

Where had the time gone? Jack knew every parent said that. When he and Teri had first brought that tiny bundle home from the hospital, everyone had told them to enjoy it, because "it goes so fast." Like most clichés, it had its grain of truth, although at the time it was hard to believe that a succession of days and sleepless nights that seemed like they would never end could somehow bundle themselves into a handful of impossibly short years.

Jack cleared his throat and blinked the water away from his eyes.

"Black, Chase."

Jack watched the young agent crossed the stage to a smattering of polite applause before returning to his seat next to Kim. He hadn't seen Chase in person before, although he'd reviewed his file closely. Jack had already been undercover when Tony had hired Chase. He looked young, strong, enthusiastic. The way Jack himself had been when he was that age. If he had ever been that age. It hardly seemed possible, now.

Chase sat down next to Kim again and Jack relaxed a little. He didn't like the smile Chase gave his daughter, but he chose to give the agent the benefit of the doubt. It made his cover more believable, and that helped keep Kim safe.

Jack knew he should go, but he lingered for the valediction. He wanted to know what kind of advice his daughter was being given. The speaker was the head of some tech firm in the Valley. He lauded the value of a technical education in these "trying times" because technology will help the U.S. "meet the challenges of the current climate." Jack tried not to laugh out loud.

About halfway into the inspiring bullshit speech, Jack started to get itchy. He could feel the tell-tale symptoms starting up. Normally he fixed in the morning, but he didn't want to come here under the influence. He wanted to experience it as himself, not the strung-out glorified drug pusher and thug he was pretending to be for Ramon. He could ignore the lure of the heroin only so long before he would have to succumb to its embrace. Quietly, he ducked out the doors at the back of the auditorium, making a show of checking his cell phone as he walked past the campus security guard.

By the time he made it to the beat-up beige K-car he'd borrowed from Emilio, Jack was sweating. He reached for the glove box, pulled out the works he'd bought last night, and measured carefully. He hadn't been able to bring anything over the border with him, and it was always a bit risky changing suppliers. You never knew if it was going to be too weak or too strong. At the same moment Jack knew he had a problem on his hands, he ceased to care.

xxxxx

A little over an hour later Chase cautiously approached the sedan parked in the shade of the alley behind the hall, gun drawn but hidden by his suit jacket. He had caught a glimpse of it as he was leaving, having seen Kim safely to her aunt and uncle's car. Another agent would tail them home. Chase had recognized the car from surveillance photos of Emilio's crack house, and he had figured that Jack must have borrowed the vehicle. He was both curious and worried that Jack was still here.

His concern only increased as he drew closer and could see a blond head leaning against the driver's side window, the neck at an awkward angle. Whoever was in the car was obviously unconscious.

Chase crouched, ready to duck for cover as he scanned the alley. Two fire escapes led to upper floor offices in this older part of campus, but there was no sign of any life on this Friday afternoon with no classes. A wheeled dumpster at the other end of the alley was the only other obvious cover. Chase lowered his head and checked for feet. There was nothing.

He drew even with the back passenger door and saw that the man in the car was indeed Jack Bauer. At least, the face bore some resemblance to the photos he had seen at CTU. The person in front of him was much smaller than he expected, and thinner. The weight description must have been out of date. A closer look told him why. Chase holstered his weapon as he tried the front door handle. It opened with a creak and he leaned one knee on the torn brown vinyl seat as he assessed the evidence and gave a heavy sigh. This was not how he wanted to meet a legend.

Chase felt like a kid whose favourite baseball star had just refused to sign an autograph. He didn't know Jack apart from a few phone calls, but there were hundreds of stories floating around CTU about the maverick agent who had single-handedly saved the President's life not once but twice on the same day, the guy who'd volunteered to fly the nuke into the desert, been tortured until his heart stopped and still gone on to catch the bad guys, the man whose wife had been killed by Nina Meyers right there at CTU.

Jack's works were still on the seat beside him. Apparently he had not stayed conscious long enough to put them away. Chase bit his lip and checked the alley again. Even in his short career, he'd done enough undercover work to know what this meant, and to appreciate that this was a delicate situation.

Chase could see that Jack was breathing, albeit shallowly, so he hadn't overdosed. That was something, at least. If he woke Jack now, the other agent would know that his secret was out. Chase didn't want to be the guy who ended Jack Bauer's career. Chappelle seemed more than willing to take on that role if it came to that. As far as Chase knew, whatever Jack was doing had not affected the mission so far, and had possibly even helped it.

Chase made his decision. Quietly, so as not to disturb the other man, he gathered up the needle, spoon and lighter, and stowed them out of site under the seat, so as to make it look like they might have fallen out of sight on their own. He knew he could never put them back the way Jack would, and trying would only make this little charade useless.

The incriminating materials safely away, Chase eased back out of the car and shut the door carefully. He walked about halfway down the alley and approached the car again, this time from the front and on the driver's side, and with a bit more noise, intentionally knocking over a garbage can. Jack stirred.

Reaching the car, Chase knocked sharply on the driver's window, and was relieved when Jack started awake. Too late, Chase realized he hadn't considered all the hazards when, with surprising speed for someone as disoriented as he must have been, Jack had his own weapon pointed through the glass at Chase's face. Quickly, Chase held up his hands.

"Jack – it's Chase." There was no hint of recognition, just a cold-blooded assessment of a potential target. Chase could see why Jack Bauer had the reputation he did. If he'd been a terrorist, Chase would have wet himself. "Chase Edmunds, remember?"

Jack blinked and rubbed his eyes with his free hand as Chase stood there, hardly daring to breathe. Jesus, the man was loaded. He could understand why Jack hadn't wanted to meet with Kim today. Ostensibly it was for her own safety, but clearly Jack was protecting her in other ways as well.

At last, achieving some level of competency from an unknown reserve, Jack lowered his gun and waved Chase around to the passenger side. Rounding the hood, Chase watched out of the corner of his eye as Jack surreptitiously checked that his works were not visible. Chase slid onto the vinyl seat for the second time.

"Caught you napping?"

Jack avoided his eyes. "Yeah." He rubbed the stiffness from his neck. "Don't ever sneak up on me like that, if you know what's good for you," he growled.

"Don't worry; lesson learned," Chase replied ruefully. "I was surprised to see you still here."

"Yeah. I wanted to wait until the ceremony was over, just in case."

Chase nodded, pretending that Jack might have been of some help if things had gone sour.

Jack shook his head and blinked, still disoriented. "Kim okay?"

"Yeah. She wanted to talk to her aunt and uncle. Agent Watson's watching them. I'll go back in a minute and take her home."

"Good." A curt nod, and Jack was on to other things. He checked his watch. "Okay. I've got a meeting with the Canadian contact this evening." He seemed to consider something. "Do you want to tag along and watch? I could use an extra set of eyes in case he pulls something."

Chase wasn't fooled. Jack Bauer preferred to work alone. This was Jack's way of throwing a new agent a bone so that he wouldn't rat him out to Chappelle.

"Okay, yeah. I could do that."

"Good." Jack gave him the details and they worked out a plan.

Chase put his hand on the door handle. "Alright. I should go. I'll see you later."

"Yeah." Jack turned the keys in the ignition and put on his sunglasses. As soon as Chase was out of the car, he drove away. Chase watched him go, pushing his worry aside. He'd better get back to CTU and check out the contact more thoroughly. You never knew when some small detail would be useful.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack parked the crappy car under a tree to shade it from the afternoon sun. Without stopping, he walked past the office with its manicured shrubs and helpful map that suggested grief was tidy and chartable. In Jack's experience, it was neither.

He knew where he was headed. He hated to go there in his alternate identity, but today was special, and he knew it would be a while before he got another chance. He also knew Teri would understand only too well.

Jack found her grave easily. The grass had grown up nicely. It no longer looked like the raw gash in the earth it had once been. He shrugged off his jacket and sat down, leaning against the headstone companionably, as if they were sitting on a bench together the way they sometimes did on their walks along the pier. Teri had loved sitting and looking at the view, any view. It gave Jack small consolation that her grave was on a hill, even if he didn't think she was really limited to the view offered by the spot her body occupied anymore.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he began softly. "You'll never guess where I was this morning." He gave a lopsided smile. "Kim's graduation."

He leaned his arms on his knees, rolling up his sleeves for relief from the heat. "I wish you could have seen it – she looked so beautiful going up there to get her diploma. You would have been so proud."

He dropped his head a bit.

"You did such a good job with her, Teri. I wish I could have been around more. I did what I could, but you were her real parent."

He laid one hand down on the grass beside him, running his hand over it, trying to feel her presence.

"I couldn't even talk to her today. It was too dangerous." He gave a soft snort. "I guess I can't stop putting my family in danger. But that's going to change, I promise you. As soon as I'm done this mission, Kim's going to come and work with me, where I can keep an eye on her."

His hand grew still.

"I know you probably wouldn't approve, but it won't be field work. I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to her."

He could feel the withdrawal starting. He had waited until he was sober before he'd made his way here, but he would have to fix soon. He didn't want to do it here.

"God, Teri, I miss you." His throat tightened around the words. "I'm just as happy you're not here to see me like this, though, I have to say. You would hate this. I've fucked up pretty bad this time."

He chuckled bitterly. "Chappelle would freak if he had a clue."

Jack raised his head and blinked a few times as the view swam in his eyes.

"I didn't think it would get this bad," he whispered. "But I'll handle it, I promise you." His gut clenched and sat for a minute, waiting for the feeling to pass before he stood up.

xxxxx

Approaching from the other direction, Phil was almost at the grave site before he saw that there was someone else there. That had never happened to him before. He was careful to visit during the day on week days, when the family would be busy with other things, so he wouldn't intrude. He stopped, unsure if he should continue. But the other man had heard him and turned, peering out from behind the headstone. Phil almost dropped the flowers he was holding when he saw who it was.

Jack.

Phil recognized Teri's husband from the photographs around the house. Michelle Dessler had mercifully handled his debrief the one and only time he'd been to CTU, and they had never met. He was much more intimidating in person.

Phil's first impulse was to run, but he figured there wasn't much point in that. From what he knew of Jack Bauer, there was no way some plastic surgeon in dress shoes was going to outrun the federal agent. Instead, he lowered the hand holding the flowers to his side and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Hello, Jack."

The other man quickly hefted himself to standing.

"How do you know my name?" Jack was immediately on guard.

Phil swallowed. He was well aware of Jack's propensity towards violence, and had been worried about Teri on that account more than once, even though she always assured him that her husband had never laid a hand on her in anger.

"I'm Phil," he said, his mouth dry. Jack squinted and tilted his head, obviously searching for a hook to hang that name on.

"Dr. Phil Parslow. Teri and I…" he started to explain, then decided from the look on Jack's face that he had said enough. Jack had made the connection.

He watched as a mixture of emotions passed over Jack's face, starting with anger, but finally, to Phil's great relief, settling on sorrow.

"Phil." Jack reached out a hand and Phil took it, impressed by the firmness of the grasp until he noticed the tremor. He looked at Jack's bare arm and saw the track marks. Shocked, his eyes travelled to Jack's.

Jack released his grip and looked down and away briefly before meeting Phil's gaze again. "I appreciate what you did for Teri that day. If you hadn't been there…"

Phil shrugged. "I did what I could." He didn't say what he was really thinking, which was that if he hadn't reminded her of who she really was, if she hadn't remembered she was married to Jack, she might still be alive. Still, she had chosen Jack over him long before that day, and the man was obviously suffering.

"Jack, are you okay?"

It was a warm day, but Jack was sweating more than the temperature demanded, and he grimaced in apparent pain.

"I'm fine."

Phil had done a rotation in the ER as an intern, and he recognized the symptoms.

"Jack," he said in his best bedside manner. "I don't know how to say this, but have you been, are you…" he trailed off. All of a sudden, he found really didn't know how to say it.

Jack snapped a look at him and Phil stepped back involuntarily.

"I said I'm fine." Jack growled.

"Okay." Phil held up his hands at his waist in a small gesture of surrender, unwittingly bringing the flowers into view again. "Okay, sure."

Jack saw the flowers and blinked rapidly as their meaning sunk in. "You've been… you've been visiting her?"

"Yes." Phil made a decision. He'd been living in the shadow of this man for too long, and Jack hadn't even given him a second thought. Phil was going to let him know that -- that what? That Jack wasn't the only one who had lost a lot that day. Phil had lost not just Teri, but his friend, too. He'd known Chris since high school. Chris' wife and two boys were devastated by his death.

In the end, he decided to keep it to what he and Jack had most in common. "I loved her," he said simply.

For a moment Phil thought Jack was going to throw him on the ground and rip his throat out. Jack's hand even started to rise and he took a step towards Phil, but then he stopped and his shoulders drooped. He nodded. "Yeah. I guess you did. She was easy to love." His hand continued upwards and ran through his hair. "I wish I'd been as clear about that as you were." He grimaced again and his hand moved to his stomach.

Phil was concerned. Yes, he blamed Jack for what had happened to Teri, but clearly not as much as Jack blamed himself, if he'd let himself get into this state.

"Jack, this," he indicated Jack's arm, "is not the answer."

Jack laughed bitterly. "Not the answer? Trust me, Phil, you don't know what you're talking about." His gaze was as steely as his voice. "You don't even know what my _god-damn question is_, Phil."

He bent and picked up his tan leather jacket. Phil could see the gun in his waist band.

Jack turned back to him. "This doesn't concern you. And if you're smart, you won't tell anyone that you saw me here today, understand?" The threat in his voice was worse than the words. He didn't have to spell it out.

Phil nodded, afraid again. He had a sense that even without the erratic behaviour of withdrawal, Jack was good at keeping people off balance. He suddenly saw why Teri had kicked her husband out, but it was beyond him why she had let him come back. Maybe she'd been too afraid to refuse him when he'd asked if he could.

Jack swung the jacket over one shoulder. "I have to go. Listen – it was good to finally meet you, but I don't think we should push our luck."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Phil."

Jack turned on his heel and left, walking rapidly back to the parking lot. Phil watched him go, making sure he was out of sight before he bent and placed the flowers in the vase on the ledge in front of the tombstone for what he knew was the last time.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Jimmy Reardon has been borrowed from _Intelligence_, the CBC drama.

xxxxx

Darkness had fallen by the time Jack sat at the bar in a hotel that had seen better days. A short guy with greasy chin-length hair pushed back from his forehead slid onto the stool next to him, ordering a beer and shot of Jack Daniels. Jack took a sip of his own beer and set it down next to the tattered cardboard coaster.

"Jack?"

"Yeah. You Jimmy?"

"Yeah."

They shook hands. The bartender delivered Jimmy's drinks and he slammed back the whisky before taking a gulp of beer.

"Long trip?"

"Not bad. I came down on my boat with my daughter. Took a few extra days."

"Yeah? That's nice. How old's your daughter?"

"Twelve."

"Good age." Jack wondered to himself what kind of man brings his twelve-year-old daughter on a trip like this. "Sailboat?"

"Yeah. I prefer the water these days, you know?" He took another sip of beer.

"Yeah."

Jimmy turned in his stool to face Jack. "So I hear you think we can do some business."

Straight to the point. Jack appreciated that.

"Yeah. We're looking for a supplier."

"How much are you wanting to move?"

"One, two hundred units a week."

Jimmy considered this. "Yeah, we could handle that. Our production in Alberta has been more than we can handle ourselves. We have someone interested in it though."

"Is it as good as the B.C. stuff?"

"Sure, sure. Same product." Jimmy took another sip of beer. He looked like a thug, but he was a businessman through and through.

"Okay," Jack took another drink of his own beer before looking at his contact. "We don't want any trouble with your other customers."

Jimmy shrugged. "You meet my price, I can handle them." He named an amount.

It was Jack's turn to consider. He named a lower price. A little bit of haggling, just for show, and the deal was done.

"Okay, we'll get that started next week." Jimmy stood up and threw some bills on the bar before putting out his hand again. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Jack smiled to himself as he returned the grasp. These Canadian guys were always shaking hands. It was a thing with them. "Yeah."

He watched Jimmy leave, then turned back to his almost-empty beer. He was nursing it longer than usual because he was waiting for his next meeting. Sure enough, Chase moved up from his table across the room a few minutes later.

"Jack."

"Chase."

Jack held up two fingers to the bartender and some more beers arrived.

"Kim get home okay?"

'Yes, Sir. Everything is fine." He hadn't been looking forward to babysitting duty, but he'd really enjoyed spending the day as Kim's body guard. It was a pretty nice body to guard, he had to admit. He probably shouldn't be thinking that with her father right there.

Jack raised and lowered his glass without looking at Chase. "Don't call me 'Sir;' you're not dating her."

"Yeah, okay." Chase kicked himself for such a rookie mistake. Jack had covered it well. Or had there been a warning in there?

"So, what do you have for me?"

Chase hunched over the bar, twisting his glass of draft. "Jimmy Reardon, from Vancouver. I'm surprised he came himself, because he was in some trouble a couple of years ago. Wanted for murder. A DEA agent was killed when they tried to bring him in during a sting."

Jack kept his body language casual, but Chase could tell he was interested.

"We figure he's well-connected up north, because the charges were dropped after the Canadians got involved. Went as high as the PMO."

"So what's the deal? Is he RCMP, or what?"

Chase shook his head. "Nah, he's a legitimate crook. Looks like he's an informant. Must be a valuable one."

Jack looked relieved as thought about that. Chase could understand why, if the rumours about Jack's trips to Canada were to be believed. There was no love lost between Bauer and the Horsemen.

"Okay, that's good. Maybe we can use that."

Jack filled Chase in on the details of his deal with Jimmy and a few more things that had happened in Mexico.

"I'm working my way in, but it's taking too long." He broke protocol and didn't tell Chase about the tattoo. "Ramon's girlfriend Claudia has shown up. She might be a valuable source. I think I can turn her."

"Okay. Be careful with that one, Jack."

"Yeah, thanks for the tip," Jack snarked, downing his beer and raising his hand for another.

Chase dropped his head.

"Sorry, Chase, that was out of line." Jack said softly.

The younger agent was caught off guard by the apology, and he chanced a good look at Jack. He didn't look much better than he had this morning. He was tired and worn, fidgeting, and scratching his arm like he had a nervous tick. For the second time that day, Chase was surprised and saddened by the contrast between the idol he'd created in his imagination and the real Jack Bauer. There was clay on those feet after all. Somehow, it made Chase like him a little more.

Chase stood up, playing it cool. "Okay. Well, I guess we're good then. Keep in touch, alright?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. You'll be hearing from me."

"Okay, man. Take it easy." Chase walked out of the bar, trying not to wonder what Jack would do for the rest of the evening.


	17. Chapter 17

The sun was just starting to rise over the city, casting a soft glow that turned the buildings the colour of the fresh blows on Jack's body, marks that would darken over time but eventually heal

The sun was just starting to rise over the city, casting a soft glow that turned the buildings the colour of the fresh blows on Jack's body, marks that would darken over time but eventually heal. Headlights formed rivers of traffic with alternating currents of white and red. Jack stared blankly out the window of the helicopter, drained and empty.

Beside him sat Ramon, shackled and sedated. Across from him in the backward-facing seat, Agent Baker was keeping a close eye on the prisoner. Next to him was Agent Ramirez from the DEA. Lying between them on the floor of the helicopter was the body of another DEA agent.

Ramirez coughed, and Jack shifted his gaze to study him. His helmet rested between his feet, the blood that had been splattered across it now dried to a dark rust. Jack closed his eyes. Emilio's blood. The round surprised 'O' of Emilio's mouth had perfectly matched the hole in his forehead. Jack regretted his death; Emilio had watched his back and been a good friend as far as under cover friendships went.

Ramon had been equally surprised when the agents crashed the buy site. He had fought fiercely, and expected Jack to do the same. When Jack had put his pistol to Ramon's head, Ramon had been truly shocked. A look of hurt flashed across his face, quickly changing to mixture of amusement and anger.

"So. You are not who you seem, Jack?"

"That's right. I'm with CTU, Los Angeles. You're under arrest."

Ramon laughed and spat. "No, Jack. You went too deep. You are one of us now. You will always be one of us. We own you, and you will pay for your betrayal."

"Shut up, Ramon." Jack blinked the sweat out of his eyes and twisted Ramon's arms behind his back so he could snap the cuffs on.

The helicopter tilted as it turned to approach CTU, pulling Jack's thoughts back to the present. A few moments later, Jack was following Baker as he frog-marched Ramon into holding. Tony was waiting for them. He didn't say much as Ramon was secured, but he motioned Jack into the hallway as soon as he was sure their prisoner wasn't going anywhere.

Jack leaned against the wall, the adrenaline long gone. Tony looked at him with concern.

"You look like hell, Jack."

"Thanks." He ran a hand over his face, trying to rub away some of his exhaustion.

"We're not going to get anything out of Ramon until that sedative wears off. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

Jack smiled wryly. "That could be difficult."

Tony's eyebrows raised quizzically before he realized what Jack was saying. He'd moved from Kate's into the cover apartment, and let that go when he went to Mexico. Jack didn't have a home to go to right now.

"I'll have Chloe set you up in a hotel."

Jack shook his head wearily. "Don't bother. I'll crash here for a few hours. I want to be here when Ramon wakes up."

Jack climbed the stairs to his office, each step feeling four feet high. He dropped his bag beside the sofa and sighed when he saw the stack of paper teetering in his in box. It looked like at least two week's worth of reading. He'd have to get Chloe to cull it for him and give him the highlights. He heard footsteps and turned.

"Daddy! You're back!" Kim rushed in and threw her arms around him.

He clung to her. He didn't know how to tell her that he wasn't back. He didn't know if he'd ever really be back.

"Hey, Baby. It's good to see you."

Kim started to sniffle. "God, Dad, I missed you so much. I was so worried about you!"

"Yeah. I missed you too. I'm sorry you were worried."

Kim pulled back. "You look tired. You should come home to my place for a while."

He couldn't live with her. Not when he was like this. "I can't Sweetheart. I've got to be here when Salazar wakes up."

"Oh." Her mouth turned down into a disappointed frown. "Okay. Well, maybe later." She moved to his locker briskly. "I made sure you had a change of clothes here," she said, opening the unlocked door to show him.

Jack smiled. "Thank you, Kim. That was thoughtful of you." He stifled a yawn but Kim noticed anyway.

"You're beat. I'll let you get some rest. We'll talk later. I'll be around to help with Ramon."

Jack froze. He had failed to consider this possibility. She couldn't. She could _not_ hear what Ramon had to say. He swallowed, recovering some composure. "Okay, thank you."

Kim turned and left and he watched her descend the stairs. He would talk to Tony about it and make sure Kim never got near Ramon or the transcripts of the interrogation.

Kim safely away, Jack darkened his walls and closed and locked the door. He pulled his kit out of the side pocket of his bag and got some tape from his desk. He started to tape the kit to the bottom of the shelf of his locker, then stopped and pulled out a dose. His body told him he needed to fix and he needed to sleep. It was pretty clear about the order in which it wanted those two needs met.

His addiction taken care of, he finished hiding the kit and staggered to the couch, passing out almost before his head hit the cushion.

- Fin -


End file.
